A Little Attached
by soda-rebel
Summary: Alfred, like anyone who's ever been human, wants a lot. Will he ever receive that? Or is life as disappointing as one-sided love? Submission for the usuktwiceperyear seasons' collection.
1. The Summer

The oppressing heat rained down upon the two blondes, lounging on the coral red hotel chairs. The vibrant canary yellow of the room happened to be particularly annoying that morning. The upholstery stuck to their skin while the air smothered them with humidity. It was almost similar to the experience of being glued to a hot grill. A small complimentary electric fan, sitting atop the side table, was turned to its highest setting. It was wheezing and practically steaming from its frequent use. And Alfred Jones with his legs dangling over the backside of the chair was utterly bored. His glasses were mere inches away from falling onto the cream carpet. Honey tresses grazed the hotel floor as he twisted his head this way and that, attempting to entertain himself.

"You look ridiculous and your posture's horrendous," Arthur critiqued as he lit a cigarette.

Alfred scoffed and stole the cigarette from Arthur's chapped lips, much to his indignation. "Oh, yea? Look at you. Wouldn't exactly call that 'proper' mister gentleman," referring to the slumped position the other was in, gangly legs hung over the arm of an equally obnoxious chair. A sigh. Alfred knew he had won; Arthur would have bit back with an insult by now.

"Whatever," Arthur said, now seemingly bored with the conversation. Slowly rising from the troublesome perch, he slunk onto the carpet and crawled closer to Alfred. They were practically a breath apart. Well, a breath and a smoke apart.

Still upside down, Alfred looked over every freckle, every contour, as though they were part of a map leading to only the most sought-after treasure.

Arthur had noticed the needy and possessive stare. He leaned in close, whispering the lyrics of some old summer song. Each small breath sent shivers down Alfred's spine. To his disappointment, Arthur stole back his cigarette without so much as a kiss. A small smirk grazed Arthur's face, lingering even after he brought the prize to his lips.

"And here I thought you were in the mood," Alfred huffed. Downy grey clouds of smoke floated towards him to dance in the pale morning light, dying as another breath was drawn. With Arthur by the window, enough light filtered through the blinds to give him a soft ethereal glow. He was so deeply and absolutely enraptured.

The small moment of peace was interrupted by Arthur sauntering over to a now right-side up Alfred. He stayed briefly on the sun-kissed skin, tracing the indents and curvatures of muscle with his hand. "Perhaps I am. Perhaps I want to remind you what the end of our summer will bring, Jones."

Ah, the ever constant reminder. Alfred did not, above all, want to think of fall. No, he was more satisfied with pulling Arthur down onto his chest.

"I know, but I can change your mind." Bright, diluted green eyes looked to him, almost like a cat to its prey.

"So sure are we?"

He was. Alfred ran a hand through the wheat blonde hair before him, stopping only to pepper gentle kisses along a sunburnt shoulder. He caressed Arthur's face, he nuzzled Arthur's neck, he filled himself to the brim by relishing in every aspect of Arthur that he could.

"And if all you've done, all you've felt was in vain? What will you do?"

Softly, Alfred pressed his lips to each knuckle of Arthur's hand. "I'll die." He spoke with such conviction and sternness, the room grew cold for a second.

"You can't." Alfred could hear the twinge of fear in that. It seemed like for the first time, Arthur showed some other emotion besides lazy content.

"It's too late now, I don't want a life that doesn't have you in it."

Huffing, Arthur slipped out of Alfred's grasp. "You should learn. This is only a fling, it means nothing."

Alfred hesitated a moment with his fingers only inches from grasping Arthur's wrist. He let his hand rest instead on the chest of his summertime lover, feeling the soft yet steady heartbeat. "You'll see." Sliding his hand lower to grace Arthur's waist, the other hand swept up the rest. Alfred took his time walking to the honeycomb yellow bed they shared. Gently, he lowered Arthur into the masses of sheets.

"I'm not made of glass Jones. I can walk."

Alfred shrugged. "I know. And I told ya, you can call me Al." He inched closer, only to be rebuffed with Arthur moving farther away.

"And I told _you_ not to get attached, but I can tell that you're already too far gone..."

"Maybe _you_ should get attached, we can float somewhere far away."

Perhaps for a moment, Arthur thought of such a wonderful possibility: the two of them adrift in the ocean, isolated from humanity with only one another. The taste of salt from the ocean, the smell of the bitter sea, the feeling of the reflecting sun in the waves. It wasn't hard to imagine them together, hands intertwined, floating on water clearer than glass. In fact, Alfred's intense eyes staring at him looked like a small ocean itself.

But the look he gave Alfred was cold, unrelenting. Almost as if to shrug off that far away feeling as though it were nothing than foam.

"I-I can't Alfred."

And that was that.


	2. The Sea

It had been exactly a year. Alfred thought often of Arthur after they parted. He thought if his thoughts were filled with the relationship they never had, maybe one day it would come true. Alfred knew it was childish. Heck, his own brother made sure to remind him of that every time they talked.

But Matthew didn't understand. This was Arthur. Arthur who could make up literary soliloquies off the top of his head. Arthur who had the steadiest hands in the world. Arthur whose lips slightly parted when he smiled.

Before long Alfred was sick with Arthur. He couldn't open his eyes without seeing him. Sometimes he couldn't sleep unless he thought of him. Every inch of his mind screamed "Arthur!" perhaps as a declaration of frustration.

He found it difficult to leave his home at times. There was always a small tug in his heart to go to the hotel the met up at. And every time, every goddamn time he brushed past someone that looked like Arthur, he would try to get their attention. But then, of course, they'd turn around and have the face of a stranger.

Today wasn't one of those days. No, Alfred needed some supplies before he could hole up in his apartment again. Maybe he'd actually buy some food this time. Take-out was becoming a chore, especially on his bad days. It seemed that fate decided the same.

While he was still contemplating the decision, Alfred noticed a familiar looking face walk into a store. He felt the familiar swell of his heart but decided not to act. He was going to ignore this, he was going to walk right past and pretend it never happened. But the more he tried to push away the thought that it could be-no. Alfred wouldn't allow himself that happiness. Afterall, what use is happiness to the lonely? Yet, every voice in him screamed that it was Arthur. This time it really was! And subconsciously, he walked inside.

Alfred saw all he needed to. It was indeed Arthur, looking at stacks of produce with an all too familiar scrutinous eye. Even with the dim fluorescent lights and the causal clothing his ex-lover was wearing, all Alfred could see was a heavenly body. He approached Arthur wondering if that light would blind him.

"Arthur, what a coincidence!" He played it off as excitement, the way his voice wavered when really he had never been more afraid. But oh how those eyes glanced at him. They had the softness of a newly sprouted sapling but the curiosity of a feline. If he were struck down right here, at this Mini-Mart, Alfred wouldn't have minded at all.

"Alfred. You're looking well," Arthur said without stopping his examination of some apples.

His heart felt like it exploded. "That's a first, I thought I was 'Jones'?"

While picking two apples to compare, he replied: "You were, but it's becoming rather troublesome."

"And why is that?" Alfred was practically beaming. He missed this banter.

"My fiance is a 'James'."

Everything he had, every happiness he had felt was ripped from him. There was a gaping hole left in his heart from the word 'fiance'. "Oh."

"I assume you are upset?" Arthur asked. Upset couldn't even begin to describe what he felt.

"But, summer," Alfred protested.

"-Was a fling," Arthur finished. "I'm arranged to marry a 'James' this fall, that summer was my last year of freedom. So I went for the boytoy who would forget. Obviously, I picked wrong."

"Maybe you picked right." Before Arthur could protest, Alfred took his hand. "Please Arthur, run away with me, we could be happy." Arthur struggled to get away, but Alfred only tightened his grip. "I could make you happy if you'd let me."

For a second, Arthur stopped. He looked into those frantic dusty blues with the familiarity of a summertime love. "I can't Alfred."

And that was that.

Alfred, with a heavy heart but an even heavier soul, stood at the very same window Arthur had that summer ago. It seemed appropriate that the end began at the beginning.

Wasn't that something Arthur would say? Perhaps it was. It was far from sunrise, the sky still grey in mourning for the loss of moonlight. In the distance, he thought he could hear the crashing of waves on the beach. Hadn't he wanted to float out at sea? Maybe he would go do that. Yes.

A moment's walk and there was the sea, crashing below the cliff Alfred stood atop. It sounded like a calamity he was a part of so long ago. He wished he could be sturdy like the tall rocks in the cove. He wanted the urgency of the waves. He wanted the coolness of the water. He wanted… It didn't matter. Alfred didn't need Arthur with his soft night whispers. He didn't need that rarity of a laugh that sounded like a bottle of magic. No. Alfred didn't need such attachments. He wanted to be free, free like the sea. And so he dove to meet the waters that wanted nothing but received everything.


	3. Epilogue

"His name is what?" Arthur asked his father once more. He felt as though the floor opened up below him, leaving him to fall into an endless nothing.

"His name was 'Jones', not 'James'. Alfred F. Jones to be precise. What a tragedy." The elder Kirkland resumed reading his newspaper, unaware of his son's panic.

Slowly, Arthur made his way into the bathroom. Locking the door and turning on the faucet of the tub, he let the charade of an uncaring man drip away. The facade of a cold, ruthless person melted under the warmth of his tears.

Alfred, dear sweet Alfred. He would have been happy, they could have been happy.

Arthur had wanted nothing more than to float away together, but he told himself he had duties. He had responsibilities. He had a marriage to fulfill. Yet he managed to mess it up anyway.

The arranged marriage was meant to make everything less complicated…heck even the fling was supposed to make things less complicated. But that's just not how life wanted it to be.

Nothing was ever the way it was supposed to be.

And Alfred, he never intended him to be a pawn. Arthur just couldn't stay away from the undying light Alfred seemed to be. Undying. Funny.

Alfred was always alight with an energy he could never describe. It was too soft to be fire and too warm to be electricity. He was just, light. If Arthur could just see those blue eyes again.

The splashes from the tub drew his attention.

He wished he could dump his memories out like buckets of water. In a moment of childish foolishness, Arthur dipped his head below the surface wanting to quiet his thoughts. Whether it was an illusion of his mind or the pipes, he could have sworn he heard Alfred calling. Against his better judgment, Arthur climbed into the waters. He sunk deep, deeper than a bathtub should be. His lungs were in pain, but they were competing against the endlessness of his heartache. After a while, he felt nothing.

Arthur drifted. Alone. He drifted until he thought he saw the sky. But it wasn't the sky really, it was Alfred's eyes. He smiled, and for a moment so did Alfred. Finally, a place to float. Hand-in-hand they drifted at the bottom of a lifeless sea.


End file.
